Memories
by BOBO BOnsai
Summary: The crossshaped scar. A feature that Battousai the Slasher has left as great a mark as his legend. Many stories have travelled about its origin, and none of which was true.
1. Chapter 1

**Memories**

Three months later.

The scent of fresh summer was prominent in all of Edo. It was a beautiful sunny morning. A typical day when the birds are chirping melodies as enchanting as sonnets, the streams are glittering beautifully under the warm sun, and the people are celebrating this wonderful and peaceful day. They went on their daily lives: vendors can be found in the market, arguing with fishermen; a chime-seller carrying a wooden cart, its accessories chiming with the wind; construction workers lazily renovate a burnt building in the center of the city this early morning, as passerby come and go.

The fire was crackling gently, as the woods burned. On the floor lay hand-made clay pots, a paintbrush, bottles of paint, and a copy of the latest newspaper. Adjacent to the fireplace was a handsome heavily-built man, with long black hair that was tied in a ponytail, who sat on a wooden stool. He was staring blankly at the fire. He wore a white cape with red lining. This cape has its own interesting history. It had been passed from one successor to another of the _Hiten Mitsurugi_ style. The man stared down at the newspaper. His brow frowned at the headline: _**'Battousai the Manslayer – Fact or Fiction?' **_He chortled nauseatingly and read the lead, which was printed in bold letters:

'_**After the destructive incidence that burned Edo, people are now beginning to talk about a mysterious assassin who worked for the Choshu Clan named Battousai the Manslayer, whose popularity grew after the bloody fight at the Murasaki ship in Edo bay, last January 18, wherein warriors of the Shogunate and the Choshu Clan had clashed swords, killing thousands of men, half of which, according to some respondents, were killed by no other than Battousai the Manslayer.' **_

He couldn't read further, for he himself taught this Battousai the Manslayer how to handle a sword. However, his ungrateful student left him to "protect the weak and be their savior". He thought, had Battousai not left, and mastered the _Hiten Mitsurugi Technique_, the latter would be the one wearing the cape right now and would not be the topic of trivia in a newspaper. To the rest of the people in Japan, Battousai was somewhat a legend. To him, Battousai was just an idiot. This man is Hiko Sojiro. There was not outline of oldness in his face, although he was reaching his forties. He took his jug of _saki_ and guzzled it like an overgrown infant drinking milk. Hiko's undying passion is _saki_, and drinks it everyday as if an ordinary person drinking water. Finally being contented and feeling a little dizzy, he set the jug aside.

"…foolish student…" he muttered. His voice was very deep and manly.

"But sir, people are dying in front of me!" a young boy's voice echoed in his head.

"You said the principle of our style is to protect people! I want to use that principle! I want to save those who can't save themselves! I… I want to be their savior!"

"You naïve little pup!" he heard his won manly voice say. "The rule in this world is not as simple as that. Like other people, in order to save you, I had to kill others!"

Hiko couldn't help grinning broadly of this memory. He looked down at the headline once more: _**'Battousai the Manslayer – Fact or Fiction?'**_ and smiled more widely, for he alone knew Battousai than any one else.

"You haven't changed," he told the newspaper. He was used to talking to himself, having lived alone for many years now.

The sun was illuminating the meadows of Edo as it leaves westward. Two men were walking under the red heavens, their footsteps rustling with the swaying grass. The other man was a blacksmith, whose name is Shaku.

"All sorts of rumors were being written and spoken about you these days – in papers, in the streets – everywhere. Your physical features are also becoming famous – the red hair, the cross-shaped scar…" he told his companion. "For a man your age, your popularity became well known rapidly ever since you had disappeared from the war."

"I know. I've been hearing stories lately," his companion answered after a while. "It's really absurd that the government is making me some kind of mascot for the restoration."

The blacksmith stared at the young man, whose vivid red hair blazed in the sunset.

"Why did you leave all of a sudden anyway?" Shaku asked. "The government could've had many uses for you in promoting order."

"I have no intentions of going way beyond my principles. I also want to forget the awful things that I have done. I want to let go of the prospect of being a manslayer."

"Battousai," Shaku answered. "If you do that, your reputation as a great warrior will disappear."

"So be it," Battousai answered. "To tell you the truth, I don't care much about it anymore. What I care about now is how to help the weak. To amend for the many lives I took and to honor the men I fought in this era, I will help those who are weak without the aid of a sword."

Shaku stopped in his tracks and fumbled in his belongings.

"Himura," he said.

The young man faced him.

"If your intention is to protect the weak, then take this -" he threw a _katana_ at Battousai, who had caught it hesitantly.

"That sword is my best work yet," Shaku said. "The _Sakabatou_: A sword that cannot kill."

Battousai pulled out the _Sakabatou_, and saw that its blade was reversed.

Shaku spoke, "Although you had found peace in yourself, you will soon find out that the rest of the world is not ready for that word. You said that you had vowed never to kill again. Hence, this sword will not take a life for you. It will protect people you want to protect – as you had said earlier, your atonement. And if ever the time comes that this blade fails to protect anymore, come to me and I will freely make you another one."

Battousai sheathed the reversed-edge sword, and looked at Shaku.

"I thought you said you will never again make another sword in your life because you felt guilty that many of your swords left Japan in puddles of blood?"

"Yes," Shaku answered. Battousai noticed bitterness in the blacksmith's voice. "This sword is my atonement as well."

The grass rustled behind Shaku as he bade farewell to Battousai, whose respect for the man increased as they parted. He watched as Shaku walked away until the man disappeared from view, with the sword that protects clutched in his palm.

Hiko Sojiro awoke the next day, very early in the morning just the way he likes it, thank you very much. The sun was still rising in the east as he went out to gather woods. He could hear the crowning of the rooster as he walked in the woods, and suddenly remembered that there was a small cemetery as few walks from here. This was where Hiko first met his "foolish student", when the latter was only ten years old, after the incidence that night before. Hiko managed to gather as many woods as he can. He turned to leave, when all of a sudden; a strong desire crept in his chest to visit the cemetery. Yes, a little reminiscing of his "_baka deshne_" or "foolish student" would be nice.

When Hiko had reached the clearing, he saw a familiar sight in his mind. He remembered it as if it was yesterday: a young boy stood among these burial stones, staring at his dead friends. He, Hiko, pitied the boy and went over to him.

"Boy, are those you family?" he heard his own voice ask.

"No sir," the boy's tender voice replied. "These are my friends. My dearest friends."

Hiko unplugged his jar of _saki_ and poured the liquor on the gravestones.

"I will honor them by sharing my favorite _saki,_" he said. "No one would want to go to Nirvana without it."

He emptied the jar and asked the boy, "What is your name?"

"Shinta, sir."

"That name is too soft for a boy who has had a brutal life. From now on, your name will be Kenshin. Himura Kenshin."

The boy looked up at Hiko and boarded his eyes at the man. "Himura? Kenshin…"

"I will personally train you. I will teach you the principles of the _Hiten Mitsurugi Style_. You will be stronger. And I, from now on, will be your teacher."

Hiko smiled after hearing these echoes in his head. He walked over to the same spot where he had met the so-called Battousai the Manslayer years ago. When he stood there, however, he was intrigued by a new figure that was placed along with the three gravestones. He wasn't sure if his "stupid student" would bury another special friend there, but behind the three old gravestones, he saw a magnificent purple scarf tied in a tight knot to a wooden cross. He noticed that there was no lump on the ground. He came to a realization that this symbol stood for a precious memory. Looking up at the heavens, he saw that the clouds this early morn displayed the same shades from that afternoon.

_Basically, this is just a teaser, whether I should continue with the fanfic about Battousai and Tomoe. i decided to start the ctory with Hiko and the Battousai's legend in the background. Please give me your reviews._


	2. Chapter 2

"I woke up seeing a red petal on my pillow," Tomoe wrote in her journal. "When I saw the ad thing, my heart skipped its usual beat and I couldn't help thinking about _Kiyosato-sama_."

Her hands stopped short from writing. The sunshine silhouetted on the pages of her diary, illuminating her well-done calligraphy. From the moment she has woken up, she left her bed immediately to write in her diary her thoughts. She really has an awful feeling that something bad has happened to her fiancé.

_'I'm doing this for the honor of our future family,'_ a man's voice in Tomoe's head said. His image appeared vividly in her mind: A fairly-tall man with the kindest eyes she has ever seen. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, putting a lump in Tomoe's throat.

"_Hai_. I'm coming," she said, getting up and leaving her diary propped on the table.

The face of her aunt appeared behind the sliding door.

"Tomoe," she said with a tone of caution and coldness. "Your father wishes to have a word with you."

This was something serious, Tomoe thought. Her father wouldn't have a 'word' with her unless it concerned the family or something with awkward formality. Tomoe bowed respectfully to her aunt, who at the same time headed for the kitchen, leaving Tomoe to make her way alone to her parent's room. She knocked on the polished sliding door, which opened immediately at that moment. A stern wrinkled face, baring the traces of harsh years, appeared.

"Come," her father said shortly, beckoning her in.

He was a man of few words. He rarely spoke. But this time, Tomoe was going to see a different side of him. He has to play the part of a good father. He has to tell Tomoe the news of her fiancé's death.


	3. Chapter 3

At the same time in the morning, a man was pacing along the streets of Kyoto. He was a short mustached individual with dreary eyes. This man was named Iizuka, a member of a political organization called the _Ishinshishi__Choshu__ Clan_. Iizuka hurried his pace, heading for an inn called '_Sakura'_. Along his way, he came across two loquacious women, whose topic is about a murder last night from a street nearby.

"It was horrible. There were three of them all covered in grime and blood! All of them were shoguns," Iizuka heard the younger one say.

"My goodness, who could've done such a carnage?!" the other one said with an air of dottiness.

Iizuka smiled, for he himself was involved in the murder last night. No one knows, of course, except for his fellow comrades. The assassination is automatically sworn into a silent pact of secrecy. The only clue they left, which is also their trademark, are the notes on the dead bodies written in clear bold letters which says: '_Reformation now! Rebellion against the Shogun magistrate!_'

Iizuka entered the inn, wherein the wall was strangely decorated with dried bamboo leaves, which looked like golden plaits blended perfectly with the dirty background.

"I'm looking for a boarder named Himura," he told the old woman, who was seated behind the accommodation booth.

"I don't really ask my transients their name, young man," she said coldly without looking at Iizuka. She was busying herself by reading the _Kyoto Daily Newspaper_. The front page showed a black-and-white image of three dead bodies, which had notes stuck to their backs that Iizuka recognized as his own calligraphy.

"Unless they give their names freely, I don't mind ask them what their names are called," the old woman added. "It keeps me out of trouble, you know. If you're looking for someone, describe him or her to me physically."

"He has red hair and about the age of fifteen."

"I don't normally know how you describe a fifteen-year-old, but there's a red-haired young man who checked-in last night. He's in room three, first door on the left side."

"Thank you," Iizuka said, striding over to the stairs.

"By the way, young man," the old lady called. "If he could, kindly tell your friend to check-out soon. I don't want any trouble. It's just that last night, I smelled the stink of blood on him."

Iizuka knocked on the door.

"Old hag," he muttered. "If you're wise enough, old lady, you wouldn't get into trouble. But with a filthy attitude like that, your head could sure pay one of these days."

The door opened. A young man, with cold set eyes and who was shorter than Iizuka, appeared.

"Iizuka," he said, recognizing the man standing on the doorstep. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to bring you some news. Thought you might need them. Are you expecting someone else?"

"No. Come in."

Iizuka followed. The room was small, but neatly polished. There was a bed fit for only one person on the floor. The veranda was opened, revealing a clear blue sky. A katana was resting against the wall. It looked particularly harmless like the toy top resting on the bed.

"What could I offer you? Would you like some tea?" the young man asked Iizuka. "I bought these from the old lady."

"No thanks, Himura," Iizuka answered. "Your manners are becoming as good as your swordskill."

Himura didn't answer. After a moment, he asked, "What news?"

"The assassination last night became the talk of the town. Also, the gathering of the Clan leaders turned out… err… not so good. The _Satsuma_ wants to burn Kyoto to the ground. The _Ishinshishi_ disagrees. One of us almost drew his sword. I was quite cautious to make a comment, let alone a suggestion when the argument became intense."

"That's not good," Himura said. "So what are the arrangements?"

There was an awkward silence.

"To tell you the truth," Iizuka began after a while. "None."

Himura stared at him.

"But they plan on another meeting, which I think will not commence after what happened to the previous one. Besides, they didn't mention when, so it's probably just a rouse to make sure that there's no hard feelings. I don't think we can pursue with their goals. They're too radical. Burn Kyoto to the ground – yeah, my ass."

Himura looked outside. He has never seen the sky this blue before.

"I'm going for a shot of sake later this afternoon," Iizuka said. "Join me?"

"Yes, I'd be glad to."


	4. Chapter 4

_'Father, though this might worry you I ask for an early pardon – but I cannot stay here any longer. The memory of __Kiyosato-sama__ torments me. I wish __for you to understand that I do__ not hope to bring shame upon our family's name by not asking for your permission of my departure. I will return in due time after I recover my heart's missing piece. I admit that I have become a coward by trying to run away from my __grief__. But grief cannot by escaped. I know__ that__ I can never evade him. I just wish to be alone for a while, contemplating on my loss. I wish to bring my family honor, one way or another. Sometimes I do wish that I could die the same death as __Kiyosato-sama's__ – in honor. But I cannot do this with too much grief in my heart, which is why I have to travel on my own. I promise to come back, father, in due time._

_All my love,_

_Tomoe'_

The letter propped open under Enishi Yukishiro's face. His sister's wonderful calligraphy was becoming glued in his memory as he read the letter again. His sister had gone. To where? He did not know. Tomoe left the letter last night under their father's door. Enishi, realizing his sister's absence, asked their father, who revealed that she had gone away. He showed Enishi Tomoe's letter. Enishi read the letter in his own room over and over again, unable to believe it.

_'…I__ will return in due__ time after I recover my heart's missing piece… '_

"Sister…" Enishi muttered, looking down at the letter and breathing in its contents. "Sister…"

_'Where are you now?'_ he told himself. _'There is only one way that I could find her and bring her back here. But no, I have to __help her__ first to her grief.'_

_'…I have to recover my heart's missing piece…'_ the letter said.

"Revenge," Enishi told quietly to himslef. "If it's revenge you want, sister, then revenge is what you shall have."

The rain poured hard that night, splashing the grimy streets of Kyoto, and washing off the blood spilled on the walls that night, as every night was in the regime.

Battousai the Slasher, the most notorious and reputed assassin of the To Ku Gawa Era, walked home along with his comrade, Iizuka, after a night's work.

"Listen, Himura," Iizuka said from under his umbrella. "I know for the fact that you're a natural killer. But, hell, you were unbelievable tonight. No screams. Not a wound on yourself."

But Iizuka looked at the assassin and saw a vertical slash.

"Err…" he began. "But Himura, I could be wrong, you know. Look at that wound on your left cheek."

"This wound was inflicted on me by the shogun officer I had assassinated two nights ago."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. But it still hasn't healed itself?"

Iizuka saw threads of blood crawl out from the seemingly-fresh wound.

"No."

"That man who must've had great skill, eh?, having been the first to inflict a wound on you."

"No," Battousai said, almost defensively. He recalled the fierce eyes that he saw two nights before, and the sword that inflicted him the vertical wound on his left cheek. The last word that the man had uttered before Battousai finished him was 'I must not die'. But the man's feeble sword-fighting abilities weren't a match for Battousai's. It wasn't enough to save him from the brink of death.

"It was just out of spite, Iizuka. He truly doesn't want to leave this life."

There was silence for a while. All that was heard was the slashing rain. Then, Iizuka broke the silence.

"There are superstitions about wounds that refuse to heal, you know."

Battousai looked at him, listening intently.

"One that I know is that, wounds bleed openly because of strong hatred, and it won't stop until revenge has been extracted from the receiver."

"Strong hatred? Revenge?" Battousai repeated. Iizuka nodded.

"The other superstition is err… a wound that is inflicted by someone who is supposed to take you to your destiny – but what the hell, that one's queer. Best if we stick with the first version. I'm going to drink again, Himura. Want to come?"

"Huh?" Battousai asked, still entrapped in his thoughts. "Oh… No, thank you."

"Hmm. Fine. You're such a kill-joy. Why don't you relax a bit? You sound like an old man."

"Sorry, Iizuka. I'm just not in the mood."

"Suit yourself. I can drink easily on my own. See Yeah!"

And with that Iizuka splashed through the thick sheets of rain and disappeared in view, leaving Battousai to walk home all by himself.

Iizuka's footsteps soon died out. Battousai's footsteps were the only ones left to be heard amidst the splashing rain. Battousai was now near the inn he was staying at. The cold rain was starting to numb his body. After a while, he reached a road beside a river, which meant that he was almost home. He had murdered three government officials tonight. Still, he could hear their muffled screams, and smell their blood. Battousai suddenly stopped walking. Something was not right. He knew at once that what he heard wasn't the sound of splashing rain, or the sound of his footsteps. He is an assassin, knowing all possible ambushes that could happen, and this was one of it.

"Show yourself," he shouted in the sheets of rain and darkness, adrenaline starting to pump in him.

However, instead of a voice answering him, a huge axe swooped in front of him. Had he not reacted at the precise moment, the axe could have slashed his body in half. He dropped his umbrella, and soaked in the rain.

"_Shinsen__ Gumi_?" he asked himself. Then a masked man, wholly dressed in black, appeared in the darkness. His huge axe was amazingly back in his hands, as quick as he had swung it a moment ago.

"I don't think you're a member of the _Nimbu__ Wolves_," Battousai said, looking at the man. "You're an assassin like me. Who sent you?"

But at that moment the man advanced over him and swung the axe again. His _katana _answered the attack. He jumped backward and launched himself in _Battou_ technique. With one swipe of his sword, Battousai slashed the assassin's body in half, grinding the man's insides and splashing the walls with oozing blood. The fight ended as quickly as it had begun. Battousai panted. His muscles ached and finally gave up. Gasping for breath, he fell to his knees. He heard footsteps again. But before he could react any further, his nostrils got the better of him. A familiar scent swept his insides – something he has smelled the same night that he had lost three of his greatest friends, who saved him in the pits of death back when he was still a young boy: White Plums. It was both a sensual and envious scent. With his remaining strength, he looked up and saw a woman, holding an umbrella. She and her white kimono had been sprayed with blood.


	5. Chapter 5

"Go into hiding. It's the only way," Katsu, one of the leaders of the Ishinshishi, told Battousai the next day. After the previous night, Battousai brought the woman to their headquarters. He informed Katsu, Katagai, an ally, and Iizuka of a witness in the assassination plot last night.

"I couldn't let her go, Mr. Katsu," Battousai said. "She has witnessed a murder, and has seen my face."

"My doubt is why you didn't kill the damn woman!" Katagai spat. "Then we wouldn't have problems now."

"I was not trained to kill the innocent," he answered abruptly.

"Well now," Iizuka began. "What do we do with her? She's under our care now."

"I suggest what I have had before," Katsu said, looking at Battousai. "Go into hiding."

The three men stared at him.

"I've been thinking of it for some time now that Battousai should lie low for a while. The woman's presence could come with a perfect diguise."

"But," Katagai pointed out. "Mr. Katsu, I have to say that we cannot afford to lose our best assasin for the moment. Not now that the _Nimbu Wolves_ are said to be active again…"

The words '_Nimbu Wolves'_ touched a vein in Battousai's temple. Everytime he hears the name of his most formidable enemies, his systems activate into fighting mode.

"Himura needs to lie low. We have to lie low for a while."

Katsu looked at Battousai, who didn't turn away. They stared into each other's eyes for a while, and then Katsu turned away and closed his eyes in comtemplation. To everyone's surprise, he straightened up.

"I'll think about what arrangements we should do. But I really think that you have to lie low, Himura. Just wait for my order. In the meantime, stay here."

And with that, Katsu left the room. Katagai, although slightly confused, followed him after a while, leaving Iizuka and Battousai intrigued.

"What the _hell_ was that all about?" Iizuka told Battousai, who didn't take his eyes from the door which Katagai had closed behind him.

"Go into hiding? For what?"

Battousai merely shrugged. "But there must be some root to it. It can't be because of the woman alone. Maybe the _Nimbu Wolve_s are becoming active again."

The woman, whom Battousai was referring to, was in the other room. Silently, she began to stir.

For a moment she thought that she had conjuncted a fever. She could barely remember anything last night, but drinking a large amount of sake in a restaurant after dusk covered the streets. All she could remember was red hair, a sword, and a rain of blood that soaked her body. After that, there was nothing but shadows, shapes, and darkness. When she woke up the next day, she found herself in different clothes from the white kimono she had worn the previous night.

Suddenly, a woman's voice called, "Oi young lady, If you're awake by now just go down the kitchens and have something to eat. Maybe if you're kind enough, you could help us in the servings." Then the voice trailed-off.

The young woman looked down at her clothes and realized that she was wearing a waitress' kimono. But this wasn't what bothered her. The question she has been dreading ever since she had woken up came out of her mouth before she knew it.

"Where am I?"

Looking around her, the young woman realized that she had slept in a storage room, but a clean one. Slowly, suddenly feeling a great surge of hunger, she gathered herself and straightened up. The young woman still had the smell of white plums. She was fairly tall, and had an extremely white complexion, almost as white as the kimono she had worn the previous night. Her hair was still in a tight ponytail.

She slid the door open.

"I see that you're already awake," Himura said.

She jumped at the sight of him. _Red Hair_… she remembers.

"How long have you been out there?" she asked surprisingly.

"I was just about to knock at your door to wake you up. Apparently, you already are…"

She nodded. "I'm sorry for the trouble I have caused you last night. I was drunk."

Battousai blinked. "Drunk?"

When she began to walk away, he asked, "What's your name anyway?"

"Tomoe. "Yukishiro, Tomoe."


	6. Chapter 6

"Ask for her name, Kogu."

"Oh I'm sure it'd be easy for you to do so yourself. You're a lady's man."

"No, I'm not. I just had an affair with one other woman."

"Really, your wife'll kill the shit out of you."

"She won't find out about Azuki"

"Say, my wife's name is also Azuki. What a coincidence!"

"Err…"

"Damn it just ask for the girl's name, will you?!"

"Err… Himura," the man turned to Battousai, talking with him with an air of caution as if he was going to strangle them at any second. "You were the one who brought her here, right?"

Battousai didn't answer.

"What's her name, Himura?"

The conversation was driving him insane. It was so irritatingly unpleasant to listen to. Lunch was drowned by the conversation being held by three of his comrades, all talking about the woman he had brought in last night. Just this morning, as soon as the woman came to deliver their breakfast, she had become that center of attention. It was as if the first time that they have seen a woman. Battousai had to endure the whole morning riding jokes and questions from his comrades, teasing him about bringing home a beautiful woman.

"Tomoe," he finally answered after a while.

The three men looked as if their birthday had come early, looking more dreary than before. Battousai almost regretted telling the young woman's name.

"Tomoe…" one man said airily. "That's the loveliest name I've ever heard."

"Was that just a pick-up line?" the other one said jokingly. "Well at least we could now talk to her."

"Well that's - "

The three men stopped talking almost in an instant. Battousai stood up without looking at any one of them, and left the room, not giving a damn if all eyes were fixed on him.

He didn't know what urged him to walk-out on his comrades. Perhaps it was the meaningless jibbering, he thought... meaningless jibbering about the woman, whom he was as merciful to spare; one who he has brought to the headquarters to be kept safe, and not to be the object of his comrades' fantasy. Just as these thoughts were occupying him, he came face-to-face with Tomoe, who was holding a tray of food.

She and Battousai boarded eyes on each other for a while, but both looked away almost in an instant. When she had gone futher, Battousai looked over his shoulder, wondering if he should escort her to the room. But what the hell, he thought. What did it matter to him if something happened to Tomoe? Besides, his comrades know better than to mess around with a woman he himself had brought with him. A sense of respect and possession must exist somewhere.


End file.
